by Cat Johnson
“Whoa there, buddy. Hang on.”
“Horse.”
I smiled. “Yup. We have lots of animals. Chickens. Cows. Lots of cows actually. And cats. And your friend from yesterday, Romeo.”
“Can I ride the horse?”
I drew in a breath. He was going to want to play. But I had work to do first.
Though I had a plan for that too. Fingers crossed it would work. “Sure. But later. First we get to drive the tractor.”
“The tractor?”
“Yup. A real big one.”
“Yay!”
So far so good. I lifted him out of the seat and set him on the ground, and of course he took off toward the fenced pasture where he’d seen the horse.
“Hang on. This way first, dude.”
“I wanna see—”
“I know you do. And you will. But first we have to say hi to my mother and father. And I bet Romeo is still in the kitchen too, having his breakfast. You want to see him, right?”
Stewie nodded.
“Good. Come on.” I held out my hand and he put his tiny one in mine.
I really should have had my cell phone out and cued up to take video, because the expressions on Stone and my parents’ faces when I walked in with a kid in tow were pretty priceless.
Cash, of course, was grinning as he enjoyed their reaction as much as I did. He knew who Stewie was. Amazingly, he hadn’t told the family, judging by their reactions.
As my mother’s jaw dropped and my father got a deer in headlights look, Stone let out a breath.
Shaking his head, he said, “Boone. Explain.”
That, of course, made me want to not explain anything, just to fuck with him. My older brother acted more like a dad than my actual father.
Smiling, I said, “This is Stewie. Stewie, this is my brother Cash. My other brother Stone. And this is my mother and my father. Can you call them Mr. and Mrs. Morgan?”
Stewie nodded. But his attention was already off my family and on the dog, laying in his bed next to his food bowl in the doorway between the kitchen and the pantry.
He tugged away from me and ran for the pup, who greeted him with a tail wagging wiggle and a lick.
Purposely being evasive, I spotted a plate of food next to the stove and headed that way. “Ooo. Bacon.”
Snagging a piece, I leaned back against the counter and began munching on the aromatic meat.
Cash couldn’t control his smile, while Stone’s eyes had narrowed to slits. Cash and I might fight sometimes. And he did tease me, and I him, but there was one thing we always agreed on. That was, that the most fun thing to do was fuck with Stone.
We were both enjoying that now.
Finally, my mother said, “Well, I know he’s not yours so you might as well tell us who he belongs to so we can all get to work.”
I frowned. “How do you know he’s not mine?”
Why I was trying to get myself in trouble was beyond me. I guess I didn’t like people making assumptions—even if that person was my mother.
“Because he looks nothing like you. If there’s one thing I know after having three sons, those Morgan genes are strong. You all came out looking the exact same. Any son of yours is going to look just like you. So who is he?”
She was right. Stewie had dark hair and blue eyes. Meanwhile, my brothers and I all had light brown hair and hazel eyes.
Accepting that reasoning, I put my plan into action. I was going to pull out the military card and hope it played on their sympathies.
“His mom is in the National Guard. She got deployed sooner than she expected. His aunt is renting the Van de Berg house from Brandon for the next few months. But she works. So while Stewie’s mom is away, fighting for our freedom, I’m going to be his nanny.”
Stone folded his arms. “Why don’t I believe you?”
I let out a laugh. “I don’t know. Trust issues?”
My mother stood. “You’re a good boy, Boone. Of course you should help out.”
I heard Stone let out a snort as I accepted my mother’s compliment. “Thanks, Mom. And don’t worry. I don’t expect you to watch him. He’s going to do chores with me. He’ll be a legit farm boy by the time his mom gets back from deployment.”
And with any luck, I’d be way more than just the nanny to his aunt long before then.
Too many hours later, I glanced up and my heart stopped at what I saw. Stewie running full speed toward the bull’s pen. Romeo right on his heels.
“Stewie! No!” I took off at a sprint.
I reached him just as he was ducking under the rails and swung him up and out of the pen.
“No. You can’t do that. He’s dangerous.” I was as breathless from fear as from the sprint, my heart pounding as I envisioned all that could have gone wrong.
Thank goodness the puppy had the good sense to stay away from the bull so I didn’t have to rescue Romeo too. He followed me as I set Stewie on the ground.
As I kept hold of his hand and pulled him away from the pen I spotted my two brothers, both standing there laughing at me.
“Fuck you, assholes. It’s not funny. He could have been hurt.”
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck. . .”
“Stewie. Stop that,” I said, low but with feeling.
“Assholes.” His response had me drawing in a breath.
Stewie’s new words had Cash bent over at the waist laughing so hard he couldn’t stand.
He finally straightened, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Oh, man. That was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
Stone’s grin was wide. “How’s your plan to do your work with a three-year old in tow looking now?”
I didn’t need him to remind me. I knew I was fucked. Hell, even Stewie could see that was true, whether he knew the meaning of his new favorite word or not.
And shit, if he said it in front of Sarah, after spending the day with me—I hated to think what she’d do. Probably fire my ass.
I really needed to clean up my language. At least while the kid was around.
Looking at my smart-ass brothers, still amused at my dilemma, brought more choice words to the tip of my tongue and made me realize cleaning up my potty mouth would be easier said than done. But I planned to at least try.
And yes, I know. Man plans and God laughs. Best laid plans and all that. I’d heard all the clichés. I just never thought I’d be living one.
Stewie was adorable, no doubt. But by the end of the day the fact remained he was young and he wasn’t used to being on a farm. No fault of his own.
It was my fault I didn’t realize having him with me as I tried to get work done around the farm would be such a hindrance.
I was born and raised here. On a horse before I could walk. Riding a tractor not long after that. Driving one on my own when I could count my age on less than two hands. Working with animals. Working the land.
Stewie hadn’t had any of that experience. That was not only painfully obvious when he had run head on toward the bull because he wanted to pet him. It had been obvious all day as every chore took at least double the usual time to complete.
Stone and Cash didn’t help me. Not one little bit, not that I’d asked them to. I wouldn’t dare. I’d taken on the kid. I’d bragged I could do it all—my chores and his care. But damn, they didn’t have to enjoy watching me struggle quite so much.
I was too stubborn to fail. I’d get everything done with no help from them, even if it took me all day—which it had.
“You get that broken window fixed in the shed?” Stone asked.
“Fu—” I caught myself in the cuss just in time. With a glance at Stewie, wiggling in my grasp as he tried to pull his hand out of mine to go get into God only knew what sort of trouble, I drew in a breath. “No, I didn’t. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Will you?” The bastard cocked up a brow, looking doubtful.
“If I don’t get it done during the day, I’ll come back after Sarah’s home and can take care of the kid. Ok
ay?”
“Boy, he’s crabby,” Cash observed.
“Guess the honeymoon is over already.” Stone grinned, talking about me like I wasn’t there.
“Well, to be fair, there aren’t toddlers on most honeymoons,” Cash volleyed back.
I’d had about enough of them. Besides, I’d had big plans to do all sorts of shit at the house before Sarah got home from work. That was back when I’d thought I’d get done at the farm right after lunch.
The sun sank lower on the horizon, proving we were getting closer and closer to dinner, and if I didn’t get my ass in gear, it would be take-out pizza.
“You two have your fun at my expense. I’m heading out.”
Cash leaned closer to Stone. “The little woman is gonna be home soon. He’s gotta get back.”
Stone chuckled. “Yeah, he probably has to cook and clean before she gets home.”
Fuck. There was no way I was telling them they were absolutely right.
“Yup. I’m going to the Van de Berg house to enjoy dinner with a gorgeous woman. And you’re jealous. Both of you.” I lobbed out that insult and tugged Stewie toward the truck. “Come on kid. Time to go home.”
“No. I want to stay.” He pulled surprisingly hard for a child his size.
“We can’t stay.” Things were not going my way and it was obvious no one was going to help me.
Bart wasn’t here, even though I’d hoped he would help with the kid. He’d gotten detention. For what, I didn’t ask, grateful he was one kid I wasn’t solely responsible for at the moment.
Mom, Dad, Cash and Stone could worry about Bart. For now, I had my hands full here, with the three-year old I’d inadvertently taught to cuss like a sailor.
“I want Romeo to come.” Stewie planted his tiny sneakers in the gravel and glared up at me.
The dog had been the one saving grace here at the farm, keeping Stewie happy. But Romeo was staying here.
Helpless, I glanced at Cash and Stone. With a sigh because I hated with every fiber of my being having to ask permission of them, I said, “Can I take Romeo for the night?”
“Technically, he’s Bart’s dog,” Cash reminded.
I nodded. “Yes, and technically, you paid for his latest vet visit and I bought his last bag of food so . . .”
Cash drew in a breath, and finally nodded. “Take him. It’ll be part of the punishment for whatever trouble he got himself into at school today.”
“Look at you, being all fatherly.” I grinned, even though I probably shouldn’t be taunting my brother since I was getting my way. I was more than grateful for that.
Cash cocked up a brow. “If I were you, I’d get the hell—uh, heck out of here before I change my mind.”
He eyed Stewie, who thankfully was too busy hugging the slobbering Romeo to notice Cash’s slip.
It looked like we all had a bit of work to do on our language. That was probably long overdue.
“Come on, boy. Time to go.”
“No!”
“Romeo is coming home with us.” I preemptively cut off his rant with that news, turning his frown into a grin. “Bring him over to my truck.”
“Okay. Come on, Romeo.”
Maybe this parenting stuff wasn’t that hard after all, as long as you had something to bribe the kid with.
I watched as Stewie took off running for the truck—and saw him catch his foot on a tree root, which sent him sprawling face first on the ground.
“Shit.” I sprinted to where he lay. “Stewie. You okay, bud?”
“Shit,” he mumbled looking at his scraped palm as I bent to lift him to his feet.
I reevaluated my prior opinion about parenting.
Crap . . . Uh, make that crud.
TEN
Sarah
I walked through the front door in a bad mood. Not from the drive, but rather from the phone call I’d gotten just as I was pulling into town.
My real life had invaded my fantasy life in Mudville and I didn’t like it.
“I’m coming to help you. You can’t possibly handle Stewie on your own.” My mother’s insult and lack of faith in me hit me hard, just as Boone came into view.
He stepped through the door from the kitchen and into the living room with the bottle of wine and a glass in his hand and I could have kissed him for it.
That impulse was something I’d have to deal with later. At the moment, I had my mother's call to deal with.
Boone took one look at my face and poured the wine without even asking. Good man.
He slipped the glass into my hand as I said, “Mother. Please don’t be ridiculous.”
I mouthed thank you to Boone, who replied with his trademark smile as I took a large sip.
Meanwhile, my mother continued, saying something about my inability to properly care for the child as I felt the crease in my brow deepen.
Finally I’d had enough of her insults, intentional or not. “First of all, Mother, Stewie and I are fine. You do not have to come move in here with me.”
Boone’s eyes widened as he hovered, watching the battle. I bet that was one thing he hadn’t anticipated when he became my manny—Stewie’s Grandma trying to take his job. He didn’t need to worry. I wasn’t letting my mother move in with us for many reasons.
“Second, are you even supposed to be around a child when you might be contagious with shingles because of Dad?” I continued.
“I’m not contagious.”
I didn’t believe her. “How can you be sure? Do you ask the doctor?”
“No, but—”
“I’ll ask Liza if Stewie has had his chicken pox vaccine yet but I still don't think you should see him right now.”
“Vaccine. How ridiculous. You do realize we used to let children get chicken pox so they’d be immune. You had it.”
“Yes, but times have changed, Mother.”
Boone cringed, probably envisioning Stewie ridden with chicken pox, just as I was. That would be unpleasant for everyone involved.
I silently nodded, agreeing with him that shingles were not only cringeworthy, but to be avoided at all costs, for all of our sakes.
“You know what? I’ll just pack a bag and come over,” she said.
It was time to end this insanity.
“Mother, for the last time, I’ve got this covered. And in case you haven’t realized it yet, you don’t even know where I’m currently staying, so threatening to come whether I want you to or not won’t work. I love you, but I’m hanging up now. Goodbye.”
Then I did just that, hitting to end the call before tossing the cell to the nearest table.
Boone looked impressed with me. I’m glad he was. I, on the other hand, was exhausted from the interaction. I let out a long deep breath and sat, sagging against the back of the sofa.
He held up the bottle and said, “More wine?”
I laughed, which had him smiling. I took another swallow from my glass, a big one, and then held the glass out. “Thanks.”
“Any time.” He filled the glass almost to the rim. “So, mother problems?”
“Yes. She’s a little too helpful sometimes.”
“It’s nice that she wants to help you, but shingles are nothing to mess with. I remember when old Buck had shingles. He was showing everyone at the bar his stomach. It was pretty ugly stuff. Finally, Laney caught him doing it and sent him home.”
Boone’s Mudville tale helped calm me down a little bit. It at least distracted me momentarily from the truth. That my mother had no faith in me.
“The thing is, it’s not that she’s really trying to help.” My anger began to return as I talked. “The truth is she doesn’t think I can handle a kid. She doesn’t trust me with her only grandchild.”
“You really think that’s the problem?” he asked, frowning.
“Yup. That’s it exactly. Just because I don’t have kids of my own.” I nodded before downing a good portion of the wine.
After setting the bottle down on the table, Boone walked behi
nd me and laid his hands on my shoulders, saying, “Well, I’m sorry she annoyed you.”
I froze beneath his touch as my mind spun, questioning. Was he just being nice? Was he coming on to me? Did I want him to?
As my internal debate raged, he took his hands off me and moved across the room. “Dinner won’t be ready for another fifteen minutes or so. Stewie is happy and quiet for now in the kitchen. I set him up watching a movie on my cell phone. Why don’t you just sit here and chill for a few minutes?”
I nodded, drawing in a big breath before letting it out. “Thanks.”
Meanwhile Boone sat in the chair opposite me and I realized he’d be chilling with me.
He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. “So, how was work today?”
I raised my gaze to meet his. “You really want to know?”
He tipped his head. “I really do.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him but I answered anyway. “Well, I think I might have come up with an idea for my client’s campaign, so that’s good. But I have to work with a guy who I kind of hate on the project.”
“Mmm.” He nodded. “I feel you. As much as I love my brothers, there are days I kind of hate working with them.”
“And how was your day?” I asked, intrigued by his initiating this surreal conversation.
“It was good. I brought Stewie to the farm. He learned how to feed the horses. And drive a tractor. He loves animals, by the way.”
I lifted a brow. “I bet he does. You know, he’s never going to want to go back to apartment life after you spoil him so on the farm, right?”
“Sorry.” He grinned and lifted one shoulder.
“You don’t look all that sorry,” I observed.
“Every child should get to spend at least some time on a farm.”
“You’re right.” I couldn’t argue with him.
He was good with Stewie. More than that, he was also good for Stewie. I had to trust his decisions. I also needed him to know how grateful I was.
“Thank you for everything you’re doing with him. My mother’s right. I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own without your help.”
He waved away my thanks. “It’s nothing.”
“You’re wrong. It’s everything. You’re really good with him. You’re a natural—” The sound of nails on the wood floors followed by the squeak of rubber sneaker soles caught my attention. My gaze shot to the doorway where I saw Stewie and the dog from last night. I looked toward Boone. “Do we own this dog now?”